This chapter ended up a massive 8k. So I cut it in half before I even finished it, so the good news is that the next chapter is over half done.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter.
Date: Year 9, August. Ten days after Mags' victory.
Dawn fell on the calm sea like a river of pink and silver paint, breathing life into the foam and waves.
Oblivious to the magnificence before her, Mags gripped the balcony rail hard enough to hurt her hands, as if anger could dissipate the fog in her mind. She was tired without feeling the need to sleep, a physical wariness she could not explain after eight hours of rather fitful rest. Staying indoors without Esperanza or her mother to distract her had become suffocating. Mags wondered if her new found hate of closed spaces was a relic of the Games, a subconscious imprint left by the narrow death-filled sewers that would forever haunt her nights, or if it was just one more expression of her ever-growing hate of idleness.
The young woman left a note on the table, careful not to wake the others, and grabbed her raincoat before heading out. She absently fastened the pins replacing the broken zipper of the too-large coat and resigned herself to buying a new one. It seemed everything she had once owned needed to be replaced, and while logic dictated that holding on to a worn and ripped rain coat was ridiculous, she felt a pang of sadness as she wondered if any of her old possessions would survive the year.
She had never thought to be one attached to material things and now feared that she wasn't clinging on to the objects, but to the beliefs that had motivated her to volunteer, the hope in a rebellion untainted by the memories of Wickers and Cresyl, the blind trust in the morals of rebel groups before it had been shattered by Atli and his pitiable, murderous children. Everything white had been tainted with gray and in front of every dream there was a steep mountain to climb.
Mags balled her fists. She viscerally hated her defeated spiraling thoughts. Of course it was hard. She had chosen this. She had been through worse at a more tender age. She wouldn't hide from her responsibilities behind flimsy pretexts of trauma.
Keane had been traumatized.
Mags had known what had awaited her and she knew what she had to do now: she had to talk to the shipwrights, the whalers and the ship captains, to learn as much as she could about their trades and wishes before deciding what was most urgent the academy teach. She needed to see the mayor again to draft her plans about house-building to avoid having to wait another five years before the makeshift tents housing the hundreds of homeless in town - and the thousands in all of Four - would disappear. She needed to see what could be recycled among the tons of material burned each week in the inland dump. Efficient recycling alone could create a hundred jobs, it was just a matter of doing it.
Unpleasant scraping reached her ears and Mags belatedly realized she was dragging her feet, filling her shoes with dust and sand in her reluctance to leave Victor's Village. She sat down on the grass, trying to make sense of her jumbled emotions.
Why was she unenthusiastic at the prospect of doing any of those tasks? She brought her hand to her mouth to silence her dry cough. This was why she had won, what she had fought, lied and killed for. Where had her drive gone?
The answer was so infantile that Mags would have slapped herself like a harried mother would a whiny child had it been any use.
The truth was that she didn't know these people; the shipwrights and the sailors, the net-makers and the market vendors. She knew most by face, some by name, but she was ignorant of even what the town gossip said on them. A town of five thousand and she barely knew her former classmates… How pathetic.
She'd sold hooks before her victory, making them from all kinds of recycled materials. They'd been sturdy and easy to use and she'd earned a decent amount for them, but she'd only dealt with Mr. Anchor and never gotten close to the other fishermen.
The core of the problem was that Mags didn't like people so much. She didn't mind them, but she disliked spending time with a stranger when there was other work to do or she could instead be with her family and close friends. She was more productive alone, and most interactions were superficial anyway. Two friends, a handful of acquaintances and good work-relations, and her family, such was Mags' wholly satisfying social life summed up. She'd made her own harpoons and nets to catch fish, in the delta with Dylana and, when he could make the time, Marlin, so she'd never really known the joy of long queues at the market, which were a greater social event than the casual observer would suspect.
The prospect of going to see the shipwrights, men and women who would have treated her like a child before the Games and would now doubtless treat her like a suspicious child with too much money and not enough maturity, was hardly appealing. After all, who would trust a volunteer? She knew many saw her as a Capitol spy and would rip her off to tend to their immediate needs at the first occasion. Mags couldn't hope to go there and have them interrupt their work to listen to her, let alone take her seriously. Why would they? She had yet to prove she wasn't just talk. Mags could compensate them for their time, but that was the best way to encourage gold-diggers and hypocrisy. She needed an inside contact, someone reliable and respected. Except those didn't grow on trees and Mags couldn't expect them to come to her like Glynn had.
Oh, go drown!
Mags abruptly stood up, willing her physical discomfort and gloomy thoughts away, and started walking towards the market. She would not give up because of a few hurdles. Marlin worked there in the early mornings and he knew everyone. It was a good place as any to reacquaint herself with her old classmates and anyone she could approach without it seeming awkward.
No wares were being sold when she arrived, it was still too early. She took a note from her purse and handed it wordlessly to the bull-like woman who supervised the daily assembly and dismantling of the market. Mags knew her only by her nickname, Cuda. The woman had muscles big enough to wrestle a shark into submission and a voice that cut through thunderstorms.
"Please free Marlin for the morning, Ma'am."
Cuda eyed the money and brought two fingers to her mouth. An ear-splitting whistle cut the air causing the dozen of workers to turn her way.
"Marlin, you're off today. Your lady friend bought you out," she called.
Mags winced at the phrasing. Marlin wasn't a commodity to bid for.
A look of pleasant surprise on his face, the sandy-haired boy threw his tool-bag over his shoulder and walked up to Mags.
"Who's going to be doing his job now?" One of the men harrumphed, shooting Mags a dirty look.
Mags held his gaze, refusing to be intimidated. Marlin was strong and experienced, but there was no labor shortage in town. Work always got done.
Indeed, rather than answer, Cuda let out another whistle powerful enough to cut through a ship's sail.
"Who wants to earn four meals for three hours' work?" she bellowed as a group of children between the ages of nine and fourteen rushed from the edge of the beach.
Cuda promptly picked two of the broader youngsters and a wiry older boy who probably had made a name for himself for being clever or agile. The other six were shooed back to where they had been waiting.
Mags frowned, knowing those boys would not make it to school by nine o'clock. School was compulsory, but some, especially the tougher boys who could hope to get small jobs young from the sailors who needed crates moved around or fish brought to the market and factories, figured earning a bit of money was a priority. And with the shortage of qualified jobs, they weren't so wrong, Mags thought darkly.
« You look disgusted, Mags, » Marlin said, stopping in front of her. His nose was scrunched up in worry, and Mags self-consciously smoothened her face.
"I paid Cuda to give you the day off. Everything seems to have a price and… I don't like it." She said lamely. Her green eyes narrowed in dismay. "I can't believe I bought your time."
Marlin laughed. "It is unfair!" he said with the easy smile Mags knew so well, "it's my time. It's me you should be paying, not Cuda. So, what does my very new employer want? And wasn't that your mother I saw going to work yesterday? Why is she still working?"
Mags went to sit down on a grassy slope not far from the path. The feeling of queasiness she had woken up with still hadn't left her and her legs were dragging her down.
"Mama has agreed to stay another two weeks at the farm to teach her replacements to do their job properly."
And Mags didn't regret having told her mother to go through with it. She never felt better as when she was with her mother and her sister, but they both had lives to live. More importantly, it was when she was alone that Mags was assaulted by doubts and the lingering shadows born from the Games. She needed to acknowledge her wounds before she could treat them, and only in solitude was she forced to face herself.
"Replacements?" Marlin said with a small smile as he sat down near her.
Mags grinned back, torn from her musings. Trust Marlin to point out the details to make her feel proud. "There's no single untrained person who can do the job as well as she did, so yes, replacements, plural." She frowned as she tried to recall the names, "Oliver Blackpool and his elder sister."
Marlin nodded before staring straight at her, worry entering his coffee-colored eyes. "You look tired, why wake up at dawn to see me? Weren't we to spend the afternoon with Dee?"
Yes, finally. Mags was looking forward to that, a lot. She smiled, a tight smile rigid with concentration. She didn't mind asking Marlin a service, but she hadn't planned to do it. She never seemed to plan things through well enough anymore.
"We are, but money can't buy everything and I can't do this without people and I don't know people. I don't know anyone," Mags said, annoyance creeping into her tone. She could feel panic rising inside her, it was there, creeping just below the surface, the voice telling her it would all had been for nothing if she failed. Worthless, it breathed, like jaws waiting to snap shut around her neck. "I need to know people, I need them to trust me, and right now…" Judgmental scowls, wary eyes, and so little hope. She'd played the Capitol's Game, why would they trust her at all? "I need to know everyone at least by name before the end of winter. I don't want to be a mystery in this town, I need to be liked, and I don't know how." She said, crossing her arms in sheer frustration. She knew how to make a good impression on people she met, but how did one become popular?
"Alright, let's think about this." Marlin said, his brow furrowing as he lost himself in thoughts. He then turned back to her, with a brusqueness that poorly masked his emotions. "Have you slept?"
"I have," Mags assured him, "and not so badly." She nevertheless felt like she was thirteen years old again, tired all the time for no reason. Games or no Games, she had to look a fright for Marlin to feel the need to mother her.
"That's good." Marlin said with a fond smile. He pushed himself to his feet and helped Mags up. "Let's do all the streets and I'll tell you about everyone I know and where they live," the stout boy said, pointing at the nearest cluster of houses. "Unless you really want us to talk first?" he said, his whole body tensing just at the thought. He blushed as he became aware of how apparent his discomfort was.
Mags slipped her arm into his. "Don't worry about it. I'll answer your questions when you're ready to ask. I've got Mama to be the adult. You're my friend, Marlin, not my doctor, and I'm really grateful you're still sticking around." Mags chuckled wryly. "And you're saving my life right now. If I'd asked the mayor for a list, people would think I want to become a peacekeeper or something."
"You paid for me," Marlin said, a teasing glint in his brown eyes, "I'd better make myself worthwhile."
Mags drove her elbow in his ribs, an amused scowl on her face. "Don't talk to me about money. I'm slowly growing allergic to it."
Marlin chuckled. "Poor you, with so much money to manage," he said good-naturedly. "We're a helpful district you know. You won't find one person who wouldn't be thrilled to help you with your money. They'd even do all the spending and, trust me, you'd never see a single one of those bothersome coins and notes again. And I can guarantee people would smile at you in the streets," Marlin finished with a broad grin.
The easy humor and gentle rebuke caused Mags to laugh with more abandon than she had in weeks. Of course, how dare she complain about being rich? Her laughter rippled through the early morning air, finding echoes amidst the waking seagulls and cormorants.
Laughter fed new laughter as a feeling of elation coursed through Mags' veins. The young victor soon regained her senses and smiled at the still grinning Marlin.
The last of her mirth vanished like a popped bubble. Numbness suddenly coursed through her whole body. Mags' ears were ringing. She couldn't get enough air in her lungs. The world blurred, her grip on Marlin's arm slipped.
Nothingness gave way to an indistinct voice and blurred image until Mags realized she was in the main room of Marlin's house. The stuffed dark red sofa was as rough as it was indestructible and had been the battleground of more than one pillow-fight.
Those memories belonged to another life.
"What happened to me?" Mags said, breaking into a coughing fit. Her lungs thumped as if they would detach with every breath and her head spun dangerously.
"You fainted and scared the life out of me!" The sandy-haired boy heatedly replied before lowering his voice. It remained thick with concern. "Have you been feeling alright in the last days?" Marlin broke eye contact, blushing slightly. "I mean physically?"
Mags suddenly found sweet rather than awkward that Marlin wouldn't ask her how she'd been feeling emotionally. He'd never dared to ask questions if he knew the answers could be more than he could handle. He hated letting people down or hurting their feelings and only sought confrontations when he saw no other way. At least he cared and didn't doubt that it had been hard on her, Mags couldn't ask for more.
"I've been sleeping a lot and I've been coughing a bit, but it could be the wind, and sheer exhaustion…"
"It's low blood pressure," Marlin said with chilling certainty, reminding Mags that his uncle had died prematurely, "and Mags, you cut yourself when you fell and your blood…" Marlin paused, looking at a loss and worried. "Your blood is very thick."
"Thick blood? How?" Mags said weakly, twisting her body around to see where she had cut herself. She could feel stinging on her shoulder, but couldn't see.
Mags paused and breathed in. Thick blood and fainting, low blood pressure... Why was this happening to her? She had slept. She'd been sleeping so much she was beginning to fear it was a symptom in itself. She had kept hydrated, she hadn't eaten anything toxic, gone anywhere toxic…
Mags' thoughts came to a halt. Crystallizing into an ice-tipped arrow which pointed at the evident answer.
Mags hadn't been thinking far back enough.
Toxic. Fumes so thick they hid the moon and blurred the sun. Pits bubbling puffs of little death and bleeding rivulets of dangerous substances which dug their way into the earth, feeding from the last of the ruins, poisoning everything in their path.
Every last drop of life had been sucked out of the surface of Southern District Three and even the underground was but a place of passage, an accursed haven for those hunted by the Capitol.
What had she unwittingly brought back from her unprotected forays in the ruins? What had lurking in her lungs and bloodstream waiting for the right time to strike?
"It's the gases from the ruins," Mags rasped, her heartbeat increasing feverishly, "it has to be. They were toxic…" Her eyes were wide in terror as the numbness in her limbs refused to fade. What was happening to her?
Marlin snorted, bringing his fist down angrily on the sofa. "No surprise here. Weren't they supposed to heal you, like every victor after their Games?" He exclaimed, his square jaw tight in fury.
They were. Could they have missed it? Had they willingly left her –
A familiar high-pitched voice startled her back to the present. "You in there, Marlin?"
"Hey, Dee," Mags said, absurdly happy to see her friend. Dylana didn't look surprised to see her, so it meant Marlin had sent someone to get her. And she'd come.
Maybe that's what it took to be high up on the list of Dylana's priorities, Mags suddenly thought with more bite than was fair, getting ill. She shut up the resentful voice in her mind and let a smile bloom on her lips, warmed to have both her friends close despite how miserable she felt.
Dylana grasped Mags' hands in her, wry chuckles escaping her lips. "Circe, Mags! You survive the Games and the heat nearly does you in?"
Mags' smile turned sour. "I think this is closely linked to the Games…" her face brightened. "Thanks for coming, I've been missing you. How's your grandfather?"
Dylana's tired face broke into a delighted grin. "Pretty good. He'll be fine for a least a couple of years with steady medications. Just pills and stuff, nothing major. He was telling jokes again and pulling weeds just an hour ago to make it up to Father for having been so horrible when he was sick."
"What kind of pills?" Marlin said, frowning.
"Those Mags had sent over."
"You're paying the medicine?" Marlin said, turning to Mags with a purely curious expression on his face. He'd heard the investment but no personal favors speech given like everyone else.
Mags blinked. Apparently. But it was a drop in a bucket as far as Mags was concerned. She couldn't even say Dylana had been presumptuous. Her yearly allowance was almost ten percent of Four's citizen total net income, it was disgraceful: she earned as much as three thousand working adults.
"I'm sorry for asking this of you, but I can't let Grandpa die and it's not like you want him on your conscience either. It's no great sacrifice on your part as long as you say no to people who aren't friends or family. It's not like we'll ruin you," Dylana said with an apologetic expression, pulling back from Mags slightly.
Mags had two friends. It was fair they all helped the other two how they could, especially when it didn't harm district Four. What bothered Mags is that Dylana thought to justify herself, as if she wasn't sure if Mags could be relied upon to help her anymore.
"Dee, even had I never volunteered I would have helped you help your grandfather, just like you'd have helped me with Mama had she fallen ill." Mags huffed, realizing she lacked the energy to be tactful anymore. "I get you're not sure about my loyalties anymore, even if it hurts, but that you'd doubt the fact I'd help you get medicine?"
She was thrown back on the sofa by a wracking cough. Her lungs felt like they'd detach and spill from her mouth. For a moment Mags couldn't breathe.
Marlin wrapped an arm around her, fear apparent on his face.
"Shouldn't we get a healer? What's wrong with her?" Dylana asked, her lips pursed in a tight line.
"I should go to the Capitol," she said, wheezing.
Dylana pulled a disgusted face. "What? Why would you want to go there?" Worry erased the suspicion on her face as she knelt next to the golden-brown haired victor. "It's not healthy for you there, Mags. They want you to be theirs, they need to control everything."
Mags agreed whole-heartedly, but the stone pressing her chest down and the crawling in her limbs caused a primal fear much stronger than the Capitol to rise in her. What if she was dying?
"I spend over twenty-four hours in a highly toxic zone with no protection and I had no mask when…" Mags stopped assaulted by a wave of memories.
Gyan, lifeless with water dribbling down his chin.
Screams and gunshots, the sizzle of Tasers and that horrible canon. Lila, vengeful then limp, her ebony skin filthy with dust and blood. The storm of fire, circling rebels and peacekeepers alike like a rabid demon, its hiss clawing at their ears yet too low to cover the moan of the wounded.
Constantine, determination making him more handsome than ever, running away with Fife, their hovercraft a beacon in the middle of the night sky until the airborne peacekeepers exploded in a terrible firework.
And Valerian. Those steely blue eyes and slicing voice. "I'm going to have to explain to my colonel that her son was very explicit about wanting you to win. Don't ever think to disappoint."
Don't ever think to disappoint.
"Mags! Mags, we're here, you're okay." Marlin was saying, holding her face with his calloused hands. His voice trembled. "Are you?" He cleared his throat. "Okay, you're not, but you're here, with us, Mags!"
"I'm here." She breathed, tasting the salt of her own tears. "Damn…," she cursed weakly, blinking the nightmares out of her eyes. "Sorry, guys."
This was not how she'd planned her first official reunion to go.
"Err… apology accepted?" Marlin replied with a wan smile.
Dylana was staring at her with tears in her eyes.
"I can't buy a cure if I don't know what it is," Mags said. Fear enveloped her body like a suffocating icy blanket. She couldn't die, not yet, there was too much to do.
"The toxic ruins… Good thing there's Capitol doctors then." Dylana said softly. There was no sarcasm in her tone, just regret as if the idea of owing their overlords anything was physically painful.
"I'm sorry." They'd finally managed to plan an evening they could spend together, the three of them, like old times. She'd finally have talked to Dylana in a relaxed setting. She shut her eyes in disappointment.
"Can't you get a medic to come over?" Dylana said. "You'll have people coming over to check on your school, so why not a doctor? You don't have to go back there." A frantic note entered Dylana's voice, her hate at the thought of Mags going alone to the Capitol so palpable that Mags' dread at the thought of leaving increased tenfold. But she had to, the Capitol was the only place she could get a reliable diagnostic.
"I need the Capitol to work with me, Dee," Mags said, her throat tight. "They like to be reminded they're above us. I can't summon Capitolites on a whim."
"Of course you can't," Dylana said bitterly. "Be well, Mags," she said. She gave Mags one last squeeze before standing up and abruptly leaving.
Mags swallowed. Dylana's expression had been one of grief.
"Has she been talking to you about me? I'm scared, Marlin," Mags said, digging her fingers in Marlin's arm so hard it had to be painful. "She doesn't trust me at anymore, does she?"
Marlin's face flashed with a myriad of emotions. His lips twitched, but no words exited his mouth.
"Marlin, I was ambushed by Glynn two days ago, you can't hurt me. I need the truth."
A smile quirked Marlin's lips as she mentioned Glynn.
Mags recalled the two had been friends when they were little. Marlin had been mortified whenever Glynn upset someone with her blunt truths but they'd remained close until Marlin had become too self-conscious about it, a little before Mags and him had become friends. Maybe now that they were older and Marlin was more confident, the two would be friends again.
"You've proven to have higher priorities than her," Marlin began, his expression wary as if he was treading on thin ice. "Dylana is a rebel, more outspoken than you ever were, you know that. She feels in danger around you. If the Capitol asks you about her, she's not sure you won't testify against her anymore. She knows you care, but she doesn't think it'll be enough."
Mags looked down, wondering how it all looked from Dylana's side of things. "I don't shut up about wanting to dialogue with the Capitol to get the academy going."
"Yeah, she'd rather have less things done but have no Capitol involvement at all." Marlin's lips twisted in distaste. "It's harsh to say, because it means people live in the streets and the jobs suck, but better be poor but owe nothing to no one and all that. You now have very different priorities."
"We're already completely dependent on the Capitol for everything except fish. It's an illusion."
"Dee doesn't see it like that."
No. Dylana liked to pretend the Capitol's hold on Panem was looser than it was. That if a bomb wiped out the Capitol today, everything would be perfect. Mags couldn't afford to believe in such black and white lies. She had power now, she had to keep real and do things right.
"You're staying my friend?" She said, feeling like a seven year old.
"Are you asking me to choose?" Marlin asked, his eyes widening in distress.
"No," Mags murmured, letting her head fall against his shoulder. "I hope you never have to."
A sudden noise made the two of them start. Mags briefly feared someone had cracked the front door.
Mags gave her mother a forced smile when the woman all but ran in, flushed and disheveled. "A boy this tall," Angelites said, her hand stopping at her waist, "caught me halfway to the farm and told me you had dropped dead."
Mags paled. Her mother had been told she'd dropped dead? Literally? She reached out with her hand, wishing to offer some form of comfort. Her mother's warm grip was bruising and Mags suddenly wanted Marlin to give her the name of the thoughtless messenger and slam his head against a wall.
"The fainted part must have gotten lost," Marlin said, looking appalled, "I can't express how sorry I am about the scare, Angelites. But, she's alive," he added with a weak smile, gesturing nervously at the pale girl by his side.
The raven haired woman flashed Marlin a relieved smile. "Yes, you're alive, Mags" She repeated slowly, her expression still a little crazed. She pointed a threatening finger at her daughter. "You're going back to the Capitol to scream at them for not having fixed you up after the Games."
"That was the plan," Mags said, feeling more drained with every minute.
Angelites stopped, evidently having been prepared to argue. "Good," she finally said, unable to mask her surprise at seeing Mags so reasonable. "Good. Let's call a train," she repeated, planting a tender kiss on her daughter's forehead before rushing out to find a phone. The mayor didn't live very far. She stopped right before the door.
"You know what? We're rich, let's call a hovercraft," she said with a small smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Mags smiled back, hoping her mother didn't give herself a heart attack. "Awesome, Mama, I'll be waiting nicely right here."
Mags twiddled her thumbs in the hospital bed, pondering the words of the pudgy doctor.
After six hours, all kind of fluid samples and three biopsy results, the man's best guess was that the heavy metal particles had combined with something else and attacked her lungs and arterial walls. Apparently, it was impossible to determine the exact mix of fumes she had inhaled so the therapy was going to be trial and error, which meant she would be globally fine, but she'd just be semi-dependent on meds for the next few years at best and few decades at worst. No, at worst the meds would kill her, but the odds were ridiculous and simply stated for lawsuit purposes.
Just brilliant. So now the Capitol had something else to use against her if she didn't cooperate.
Doctor Alexanders came back in with a thin file, his orange eyes hooded in anger, but the anger seemed directed at himself, not Mags. "You'll be taking this home, it contains everything you should know about your body and medication. I'm sorry we didn't catch this earlier. We thought we'd treated all the toxins. Evidently not," he said with a forced thin smile.
Mags stared. A Capitolite apologizing? Suddenly she saw the man in a less negative light and stopped suspecting she had not been completely cured on purpose the first time around. He'd been very professional. "I know you're doing your best. It's better than anything I have at home."
The doctor rolled his eyes at that before growing solemn again. "Miss Abalone, you might not live much beyond seventy or eighty. Some damage is unfortunately irreversible and your heart has been slightly weakened. But," the man said, straightening with an unmistakable aura of pride, "barring further serious injury or illness, I can guarantee you'll be strong until then."
Mags laughed. Seventy was old. Her grandparents had died in their sixties and they'd lived a full life. Dylana's grandfather was seventy-six and had to be the oldest person Mags new. At least the oldest person who could think, wash and eat by himself.
Her smile fell at the memory of Dylana's abrupt departure. She clung to the hope they could still fix things.
Alexanders was looking at her as if she was insane.
"A healthy seventy has always been my ambition," Mags explained, not missing the flash of disdain that answer caused. "Thank you for answering all my questions, Doctor," she said curtly.
"It's the job. You've been a relaxing patient," the man admitted with a small smile. "Your hovercraft will leave in five hours, I suggest you rest and read some magazines. Someone will come and get you if you're summoned."
Mags nodded, disheartened by the news. Five hours. She'd be home by midnight if she was lucky. She didn't doubt she would be summoned, unless this was to teach her patience.
Capitol fashion magazines were stacked on a small table on the other side of the room. Mags decided to have a laugh.
As she passed the door, she saw a pair of avoxes rushing past and frowned. If avoxes assisted the doctors, why hadn't a single one entered her room? Another avox, a middle-aged man, stood in front of a closed ward door, looking much less in a hurry. She walked over, unable to stop wondering what he had done to have his life taken away by the Capitol.
Panic entered his face when he realized he was the object of her attention.
"I just wanted to know if it was normal that I didn't see a single avox until now," Mags hurriedly said, hating to see him so tense, "I've been here since before midday and the doctor did everything by himself, except for a single nurse."
The man almost sagged in relief at the innocuous nature of her question. He shook his head and shrugged to signal he didn't know why.
How thoughtful of Achlys to spare her the sight of avoxes, Mags grimly thought. She hated everything the mutes in the red uniforms represented. Slavery, death of personality, the Capitol's total impunity; but for avoxes to have been ordered out of her room yet not out of the corridors was a very clear message. We know where you are. Maybe there were no cameras in her home, but in the Capitol, her every step was monitored.
Mags thanked the man, tearing her eyes away from him before her anger became too apparent, and walked back into her room. She paused by the door.
A robust boy with black hair and an open round face was standing next to her window.
"What are you doing here?" Mags said, checking the corridor for parents but seeing none.
The boy huffed dramatically. "I'm bored, all the nurses are busy because some lady is giving birth to twins and she's so scared she paid for the whole hospital to take care of her, or so the nurse said." He pointed at the hospital entrance two stories below. "Dad will come and get me at nine because my tests won't be ready before, so I'm supposed to watch TV or something but I'd rather go out." He huffed again. "Nine is three hours away and I'm bored!" He repeated, letting himself fall on the floor, his arms firmly crossed across his chest and his face scrunched up in frustration.
Mags stared quizzically at the boy, wondering what the appropriate response would be. She could tell him to leave her alone but she had to admit that reading fashion magazines was only appealing to an extent. Besides, getting on good terms with a Capitolite, even a miniature one, would doubtless make her life much easier.
"How old are you?" She inquired, her interest piqued. "What's your name?"
"Plutarch and I'm eight and two months." He jumped to his feet and puffed up importantly. "Have you ever seen the zoo?"
It's a very stupid cliffhanger, but this was long enough as it was. It's not my favorite chapter, but it's important. Please review^^.